Supernaturally Natural
by Kittkat114
Summary: A comedy of three sisters who find their lives intertwined with two men and an angel. **I'm sorry to anyone who was reading this, but I gutted the story and reconstructed it. My apologies if you enjoyed it**
1. ABOUT A GIRL: Part I

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN_ SUPERNATURAL _**

* * *

_Part One_

**About A Girl**

**Vickery, OH, 1:26 AM**

It was a dead, silent night and the only noise to be heard was from a black 1965 Ford Mustang that was flying down Route 83—the moon beaming down as if to shed some light upon its journey. The wind gently shook the car; occasionally causing the car to sway towards the ditch on its left or right.

"Hey, how much longer are we going to be on the road? I'm getting really tired..." A young girl with thick, long, red-brown hair asked, glancing at her sister, "I'm sure you are too, Raillie." She was seated in the passenger seat giving her sister in the driver's seat a pleading look. Raillie seemed hesitant to respond, almost as if she seemed unsure or maybe even slightly dazed from her sleep deprivation. Deep down, Raillie was concerned. She could feel her long, dark curls fall into her face as she would subconsciously nod off only to spring back up with that much more determination to stay awake.

"You're the one in charge of the map. Speaking of which, can you pull out the map for me so we can figure out where the nearest motel is?" Raillie replied groggily, pointing to the car's glove compartment. Anne could tell her sister was beat. Raillie's hair was disheveled, her eyes fighting to stay open from all the miles she had driven that day.

"Sure…" Anne faltered, as she analyzed her sister for a bit longer. Anne was waiting for the moment her sister would turn to her and ask her to take the wheel for her, but at the same time she highly doubted that Raillie would do that. Raillie was so stubborn at times, that it could literally be considered 'deadly' depending on the situation. Still hesitant, Anne popped open the glove compartment and moved aside a newspaper with something about an apartment building that caught fire near Stanford University.

She remembered skimming through that article a couple times. It was tragic. There was only one survivor, Simon or something; his girlfriend had perished in the flames. Apparently, returning from a road trip, he was on his way to his apartment when he noticed smoke coming off of the door. Panicked, he tried to get inside to check if his girlfriend was inside the building but flames exploded out of the doorway and he and his brother were incapable of going inside. When authorities and firemen arrived on the site, the fire finally put out, they found a body and identified it to be 21-year old, Jessica Moore.

Hastily, Anne grabbed for the road map, unable to stop thinking that she should take over for her sister. Raillie must have been driving for at least eight hours by now.

Anne pulled out a mini flash light from her jacket pocket and shone the light onto the map's laminated surface, but the thought persisted. She couldn't just leaving her thoughts bottled up.

"Raillie, are you sure you don't want me to take ov—"

"Anne? Map. Our location. Motel location. _Please_." Raillie enunciated with an agitated tone.

"Raillie, it's been _eight_ _hours_. You need to take a—"

"_Anne_." Raillie finalized.

Silence fell upon the cab and Anne fought with all her might to try not to argue. Instead, she turned her attention back to the map that sat on her blanket-covered lap. She was very good at arguing and she wasn't blind to the fact that her sister's head was bobbing in and out of consciousness for the past hour. If they got into an accident, Anne was so going to revel in how right she was. It would be something that Raillie would never live down.

Silence fell upon the cab of the car as they continued down the road. Both were irritated with the other, but not for any major reasons except for that they both had sleep weighing heavily on their minds. Trying to get past her frustration, Anne started thinking of topics to talk about instead of the silence that was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"What are we doing this time?" Anne murmured. She was still bruised from her sister's unnecessary yelling, but still wondered what their next lead was.

"I don't know what we're dealing with, but I do know that it didn't happen the way they say it did. This guy's eyes just exploded out of his skull, and there are what look like scratch marks around his eyes. They think it was due to an aneurism." Raillie trailed off.

"You got all of that from the newspaper?" Anne questioned.

"Well…no. I, um," Raillie sat up in the driver's seat, uncomfortable, "impersonated a _polce offcer_..." Raille fumbled over her words.

"What was that?" Anne looked at her sister, hoping she didn't hear what she thought she just heard.

"I… _preteded_ to be a _polce offcer_." Raillie coughed.

"You pretended to be a police officer? Rallie, we had this talk. We mutually agreed we would stop doing that. It's too risky. How are we supposed to save people if we're serving time behind bars for something as dumb as impersonating an officer?"

"Well then you're not going to like what I'm going to do once we get there." Raillie winked at her sister, seeming to be amused.

Anne scoffed. "Raillie, _no_—"

"Anne, this is how we get our information. Without this kind of info, we wouldn't be able to do what we love most and save lives. It's dangerous, but it's a risk worth taking if it means putting another monster to bed."

Anne hesitantly agreed, nodding her head. Raillie was right, but at the same time she knew that one of these days their luck would run out. They both knew this going into this line of work.

* * *

They'd been doing this for a few years now, starting after their father went on a murderous rampage; killing their mother in cold blood. But it wasn't his fault. No, it was the family curse. Her sisters didn't know about the curse, but Raillie did. It was a curse that had gone back to their Inuit ancestors and the curse left Raillie (the eldest) with no choice but to take their father's life before he took the lives of his daughters. A true kill-or-be-killed situation.

None of the girls had been the same since that tragic incident. Who would be? There was a lot of debate between the sisters of whether their father was a good person or a bad one. Raillie knew the truth, so it was easy for her to defend her father. His last words haunt her to this very day. Sometimes she even dreams about them. For Anne and Ariel, he was no longer seen as anything but the man who snapped and took it out on his family. After all, the death of their parents was very traumatic for the sisters. Their sister Ariel (the middle child) decided to go her own way after the funeral. Ariel didn't want to live a life that was always on the road, full of risks, and required living in the cheapest, creepy or crappiest motel that came along like Anne and Raillie chose to do. Though she supported Anne and Raillie's decision,she hated having to worry about the chance of them winding up in the obituaries section of the newspaper one day. Ariel just wanted a normal life compared to that of her sisters. She wanted a family, to live her life and to make their parents proud; however, she promised that she would lend them a hand whenever they needed it most.

Originally, they got the idea from their uncle Robert who came to them after the funeral. All three girls were given the option to take him up on his offer, but it was only Raillie who was driven to taking revenge on their mother's death by helping other people escape the same fate. She later convinced Anne to accompany her.

Secretly, Raillie hoped that somewhere down the road she would find more info about this family curse. So far, there had been no leads. Even their uncle Robert didn't know anything about the curse. Or at least that's what he said. Raillie was suspicious that he knew more than what he was letting on. According to him, all he knew was that their father had a bad temper. Not that he had this ability to transform into the monster he became the night the girls were orphaned.

* * *

Anne focused on the map, "Okay, there's a motel coming up soon in Fremont. Keep heading down Highway 20, then we'll turn onto Highway 53."

"Alright. What's the place called?"

"It's the Fremont Turnpike Motel." Raillie turned her head to look at her sister.

"You know we have to keep a low profile, right?"

"I know, I know. But I think it _is_ low profile. Plus, it's the closest thing right now. The next one is another fifty miles away still,"Raillie rolled her eyes, "That, and I don't like cranky you." Anne muttered as she folded up the map and stuffed it in the glove box, Anne's light fell upon the newspaper. She had to have read it at least ten times, but she couldn't get the report out of her head.

Raillie sighed, "Look, I don't wanna fight anymore tonight..."

"It's not that. I'm just thinking about that article of the fire at that apartment in Palo Alto, California. It's just such a tragic story. Some guy's girlfriend died in the apartment fire. No one knows how it started, but they know it was started within the apartment. There was no evidence of anything that could've started it, though."

"We should be coming up on a bridge any moment now. After that bridge we're going to turn left." Anne directed by memory.

"Yeah, I remember reading that. I think his name was Simon Westchester, or something?" Raillie tried to recall as she turned into the hotel's entrance. There were very few cars there which was good. That meant less people to notice them. Though the hotel itself was a low-key place, the five star Inn quarter of a mile away was not. That parking lot was packed and there were so many lights it was as if the lot and inn were glowing. Big businesses like that one made Raillie feel bad for the small businesses like this one.

"So you did read it?"

"Mhm…" Raillie replied groggily. She was so glad they were parked, but now she felt that her biggest problem of all would be that she wouldn't want to move. Her body and mind were so exhausted.

Anne noticed her sister drifting away and shook her awake, "Come on Raillie, we're here. We can go check in and lay our heads down on a nice soft bed." The 'nice' part was questionable, though. So was the 'soft' part.

"Come on, let's get inside." Anne said, pushing her sister towards her door. Raillie groaned in response, pushing open the driver's side door. For tonight, this was they're home.


	2. About A Girl: Part II

_Part II_

**About A Girl**

**6:30 A.M.**

The next morning was definitely more refreshing, despite the fact that neither sister slept that well. The girls showered and dressed then zoomed downstairs for some breakfast before continuing on their way to Toledo, Ohio. There, they would examine the body and peek at the police report to see what actually happened, and hopefully talk to the family. That part was never easy; regardless, it had to be done and it had to be done delicately.

The ride hadn't took too long. It was about a forty minute drive, considering the traffic. Raillie had spent the duration of the ride being annoyed by Anne's choice of music. The girls had their good days and bad days when it came to each other's music choice. For Raillie, today was like living in a '80s hair band hell. Sometimes Anne wanted to listen to nothing but the '80s hair bands (today was one of those days) and Raillie could only take so much before she wished for something else. She didn't hate classic rock &amp; roll, in fact, she was a fan of it. Nowhere near her sister, though. Anne bumped the standards of the term "rock and roll fan" to a whole new level.

Since they were finally in Toledo, it was all business from there on out. Their plan was to hit the hospital where Steven Shoemaker's body was located, then head to the police station.

Pulling into the hospital parking lot, the girls parked the mustang where all the other cars clustered. They learned over the years that to blend in, you didn't want to look like an outsider. Looking like an outsider meant parking away from everyone else.

The girls took a few minutes in their car to decide what they were going to say. The only thing that made sense was to call themselves college students saying as there was a campus located in Toledo: the University Of Toledo (UT). Wardrobe was the easiest part for Anne and Raillie saying as they practically had a walk-in closet within their overly, large duffle bag in the back seat.

As for looking the part, the girls were young enough. Raillie was thankful for her youth. There were some things that you just couldn't pull off as you got older. Being a college student was one of them. Kind of a no-brainer, too. Raillie worried what role she would play in their investigations when she was too old to do things like this. She wondered about it often. She wasn't getting any younger. Even that thought made her feel old.

At least with this operation she was in the clear. There were plenty of twenty-four year old college students. It helped that the field they majored in was a masters or doctorate degree. Even Anne would be in the clear, given that she was twenty-two years old.

The office room they walked into was noticeably dim. It was a very spacious room with a lot of unused space. To their right were two desks. The last desk was empty, but the first desk was occupied by an older gentleman with gray hair. He was slightly attractive, if older men were your thing.

The name plate on his desk read "DR. D. FEIKLOWICZ". The doctor was looking through some kind of text book, a table lamp illuminating his literature. It was hard to distinguish what it was from where the girls were standing.

The gentleman glanced up from his book, noticing Raillie and Anne. Acknowledging their presence, the Doc cleared his throat and stood up, adjusting his glasses.

"Can I help you young ladies?" He asked, seeming a little puzzled but nonetheless greeted them with a smile.

"Dr. Dane Feiklowicz, I presume?" Raillie stepped forward, extending her hand while using her other to hold the binder that contained her pretend college notebooks and documents.

"You would be correct, but what can I help you with?" He rephrased, shaking Raillie's hand but giving both girls skeptical looks.

It was obvious they were on thin ice, which meant the chances of them getting the Doc to let them examine Steven's body were slim.

"My name is Grace, and this is my friend Kat. We're students from UT." Raillie replied with a hint of nervousness.

She figured college students who were doing field work might sound a little nervous or intimidated. Dr. Feiklowicz only gave the girls an even more skeptical looks, waiting for the real reason they were there. Clearly they were not welcome. Raillie knew she had to lie better, maybe even kiss some ass.

"We're studying to become Epidemiologists and our professor thought it would be good experience to come here and get an inside look at some of the stuff we'll be dealing with in the future as part of our final. She said that she had it all set up for us and that today we were supposed to come down here to visit with you. You were recommended to us personally."

It was faint, but Raillie swore she saw a subtle blush rise to the gentleman's cheeks. He seemed astonished that someone thought so much of him regarding his line of work.

"I see..." The doctor smiled, "Well it seems I was not informed. There must have been a miscommunication." Dr. Feiklowicz stepped out from behind his desk and rounded to the front where he sat on his desk and looked Anne and Raillie straight on.

"Listen ladies, I know how important this must be to you but I don't even have any cadavers prepared for this visit." He seemed genuinely sorry, though this was just one big lie.

The fact that he said he didn't have anything prepared might mean that he didn't have anything but the current body he was working on. Steven Shoemaker.

"That's okay!" Anne stepped, "We'll honestly examine anything you have." She gave him a pleading look.

The doctor sat there for a moment, thinking through all of his options. He looked frustrated. The girls could tell that he wanted to help them but he wasn't sure that he should.

"Alright," he finally agreed, motioning for the girls to follow him.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" both girls sang in unison. Following him, the girls hooked arms and exchanged playful grins.

During the examination of Steven's corpse, Dr. Feiklowicz pointed out that his eyeballs seemed to have liquefied within his sockets. He'd never seen so much blood in his life. He told the girls about the blood in Shoemaker's skull and how he thought it was a massive aneurysm/stroke. There were no signs of a struggle. Shoemaker as alone when he died. To the girls, that was too easy of an explanation. When you saw the thing that they saw every day, there was no normal explanation for things anymore. They hadn't come across a normal explanation for something in seven years.

Raillie had planned to audio tape the session in addition to taking down notes. That way if they needed to look back on something, the evidence they needed would be right there. Afterwards, the girls invited Feiklowicz out to lunch with them as a treat for being so nice. Little did he know, they invited him to see what else he knew. To him, it was to discuss their dreams of pursuing Epidemiology and to learn more about what his job was like.

It took the girls a while to persuade him, but they finally were able to make Feiklowicz break and accompany them to lunch. So there it was. They would see what else Feiklowicz knew and then move on to their next point of business: the police station.

Φ

Why, Sam?

"Sam, wake up."

Sam sprung forward, feeling panicked and confused; his heart full of guilt. His hair was disheveled and his forehead and hair were dampened from sweat. He was dreaming of Jessica again. He couldn't get her out of his head. If only he had stayed with her, she might still be alive.

The first thing his eyes fell on were his brother, Dean, staring at him intently. You could almost see the faintest glimmer of worry. Sam looked around and noticed they were parked in a lot that sat in front of a huge brick building.

"I take it I was having a nightmare?" Sam murmured.

"Yeah.. Another one." Dean stated, seeming to scan over his brother to make sure everything was alright.

"Well at least I got some sleep." Sam joked, trying to look at the sarcastic, positive side; however, his brother completely ignored it.

"You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this." Just as Dean had ignored Sam's sarcasm, Sam ignored Dean's order for a counseling session and took another look around. Meanwhile, Dean fiddled with some paperwork.

"Are we here?"

"Yep. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio." Dean confirmed, looking up from the paperwork he had seemed to finish.

Sam picked up a newspaper that sat in between the two of them and looked at it. It was opened to the obituary section and there was an obituary circled with black sharpie marker: SHOEMAKER, Steven. His obituary told of the expected things: giving the date and time of his service and some kind words about him, like how he was a loving father and husband.

"So what do you think really happened to this guy?" Sam inquired, still staring at the newspaper.

Dean looked over at Sam, placing the paperwork and clipboard in the back seat, "That's what we're gonna find out. Let's Go." Dean motioned towards the building as both him and his brother exited the black, 1967 Chevy Impala.

It was a short walk to the mortuary. You'd figure it to be longer when there are stairs involved, but it was an easy find. Of course, the brothers had to check in at the front desk and ask which way it was to the mortuary. The nurse gave them skeptical looks, but complied.

The hall they ventured down was very dim and gloomy. Nonetheless, they could see the room number 144, marked Morgue. Continuing into the room, Sam and Dean walked past an empty desk with a name plate titled: DR. D. FEIKLOWICZ. Everything at the Doctor's desk seemed to be abandoned, as if he just got up and left from what he was doing. Dean kind of squinted at the name plate, slightly intimidated by the length and jumbled letters. There was another desk a few feet from Dr. Feikalavich's desk that was occupied by what looked to be the technician. He was bald, he was hairy, and he didn't look very friendly. In fact, he looked positively bored.

Hearing the boys walking up, the morgue technician looked up from his computer screen.

"Hey." The tech greeted in a blah tone. Though, the entrance of the brothers had seemed to peak his curiosity.

"Hey." Dean nodded with a polite smile.

"Can I help you?"

Sam looked at Dean who glanced at Sam. It was as though for those three seconds the brothers were trying to decide who would tell the bullshit story. Given that Sam just got back into the game, it was obvious that Dean was the more experienced one and obvious choice.

Preparing himself, Dean looked at the technician, "Yeah. We're the…uh…med students."

"Sorry?" the technician replied, unamused.

"Oh, Doctor…Figlavitch didn't tell you?" Dean fumbled over the name, pointing towards the Doctor's desk.

"We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper." Dean lied with his same polite grin.

Seeming unconvinced, the technician smiled, unamused, "Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch."

"Oh, well he said, uh—" Dean and Sam exchanged a look, feeling anxious, "Oh well, you know, it doesn't really matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?" Dean grinned, brushing off the tech's attempt to get the brothers to leave.

Feeling unmotivated, the technician held his ground, "Sorry, I can't." He smiled sarcastically.

"Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want."

"An hour?" Dean looked at Sam then returned his attention back to the technician, "Ooh. We gotta be heading to Columbus by then."

"Yeah." Sam stepped in, agreeing with his brother to make their ruse seem all the more convincing.

Dean started to get the feeling that if he didn't seal the deal now and convince this ass to let them see the body, then they were never going to convince him and they'd have to figure out another way to view Shoemaker's corpse.

"Uh, look man, this paper's like half our grade. So if you don't mind helping us out—"

"Uh, look man…. No." the technician mocked bluntly.

Dean could only chuckle angrily as he turned his back to the technician, "I'm gonna hit him in his face, I swear." Dean mumbled through his noticeably fake smile.

Sam knew that if Dean introduced his fist to this guy's face that would put a very large road block in the middle of their investigation, and it might take them a while to maneuver around it. Besides, Sam may have been rusty on his lying skills, but he knew a few tricks in conning people into doing things. Or rather, bribing them into doing things.

Sam had said nothing. He just patted his brother on the chest signaling for him to calm down, stepped in front of Dean, smiled, revealed his wallet to the technician and fanned out six or seven twenty dollar bills. Holding them up for the technician to see, the guy looked up at Sam dumbfounded, wondering if he was actually going to give him that money or if it were a trick. Dean peered over Sam's shoulder, noticing all the money Sam was going to throw away towards some pathetic ass-hat.

Proceeding, Sam tossed the twenties onto the technician's desk and gave the guy a blank stare as if to say, 'Are you happy now?'

The greedy man almost tripped over himself racing to pick up the twenties and smiled, looking up at Sam and his brother, "Follow me."

Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder after the technician walked away, "Dude, I earned that money…"

"You won it in a poker game." Sam scoffed, shaking his head and walking away. Sometimes, all he could do was laugh at his brother's ridiculousness.

"Yeah." Dean exclaimed.

"Now the newspaper said his daughter found him." Sam commented to the technician, "She said his eyes were bleeding."

The guy looked up at Sam then Dean, then proceeded to pull back the white sheet that covered Mr. Shoemaker's body, "More than that. They practically liquefied."

The technician had a greasy smile about his face that almost made it seem like he thought it was the coolest thing he had seen since he had started working there.

Sam and Dean examined Shoemaker's pale, lifeless corpse. They peered at Shoemaker's face, at the pair of empty eyeball sockets where his eyeballs used to be.

"Any signs of a struggle? Like maybe someone did this to him?" Dean asked.

"Nope. Besides his daughter, he was all alone."

Sam was confused as to how Mr. Shoemaker ended up on this metal slab. None of this made sense. "So what's the official cause of death then?" Sam asked.

"Doc isn't sure. He's thinking massive stroke; maybe an aneurysm? All I know is something burst up there, that's for sure." The technician commented coolly with that same greasy smile.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, looking confused.

"Intense cerebral bleeding." The tech stated, "This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I have ever seen."

Dean nodded, looking a tad grossed out as he stared at Shoemaker's dead, eyeball-less corpse.

"But the eyes… What would cause something like that?" Sam could tell that the guy didn't really know much. He probably had guesses that he'd be willing to share, but judging from the way he was looking at the corpse, he looked just as clueless as they did.

"Capillaries can burst. Um, see a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims."

"Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?" Dean challenged.

The tech just smiled and proceeded to explain that that had been a first for him, but then went on to say that he was no doctor. Sam looked at Dean, hinting that they should start wrapping things up and maybe see if he had information about the police report.

"So, think we could take a look at that police report?" Dean grinned slyly, knowing exactly what Sam was thinking, "You know, for, uh…our paper."

"I'm not really supposed to show you that." The tech grinned as he put his hands up in protest and took a step back. He made sure to display an expression that said he could be swayed.

Rolling his eyes and scoffing, clearly annoyed, Sam pulled out his wallet from earlier. This was getting old very fast.

As Sam and Dean made their way down the steps, they continued their conversation regarding their investigation.

"It might not be one of ours. It might just be some freak medical thing." Sam explained, trying to make sure that all of the possibilities and cards were on the table.

"How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?" Dean objected, throwing Sam's 'freak medical thing' out the window.

On the surface, it might seem like it could be; therefore, he couldn't really blame Sam. Sam had been out of the game for so long, he'd probably forgotten that in their line of business, it's almost never some 'freak medical thing'.

"Uh…almost never?" Sam answered correctly. Maybe he hadn't forgotten.

"Exactly." Dean stated.

"Alright" Sam agreed, "let's go talk to the daughter."


End file.
